


Honey, It's the Mileage

by damalur



Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damalur/pseuds/damalur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is much ado over the 'check engine' light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey, It's the Mileage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weirdmisty](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=weirdmisty).



> For [](http://weirdmisty.livejournal.com/profile)[**weirdmisty**](http://weirdmisty.livejournal.com/), who requested Penny teaching Sheldon something. Hope this satisfies, and happy holidays! (Crossposted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/sheldon_penny/816106.html).)

It was _not_ the final blow to their relationship, not the killing stroke or a minor pothole or anything but a typical Wednesday evening. A typical Wednesday evening involved Penny picking Sheldon up at work, Penny driving Sheldon to the comic book store, Penny herding Sheldon home before Stuart threw him out, and Sheldon harping at Penny about the dashboard reminder to check her engine.

See Penny? See Penny hit critical mass and explode in Sheldon's face.

"Oh my God, Sheldon!" she shrieked, and threw the car into park. "Will you just shut up about the stupid light? I am not an idiot, okay, I have noticed that the stupid light thingy comes on when I stick the key in the hole, and anyway you've told me about five hundred times—"

"Twenty-six," Sheldon corrected. Primly.

"..._What_?"

"I've pointed the indicator out to you twenty-six times, not five hundred."

She shivered full-body, the same way a cat shivers before it turns around and latches onto its owner's ankle—full-body and high-strung, all razored nerves and lighting-quick reflexes barely held in check.

"Sheldon. Get out of the car."

"I was going to get out anyway, since we're—"

"Out. Of. The car." Stupidly, he balked, so she growled low in the back of her throat. "_Now_."

He huffed and unbuckled the seatbelt and adjusted his messenger bag and in that time Penny launched out of her seat, popping the car's hood and swinging open her door in one angry motion.

"Look," she said, and wrenched the hood up. "What is this?"

Sheldon hovered at her shoulder, his hands fluttering up and down his bag's straps like pale birds. "Penny," he said, "what are you _doing_."

"I'm asking you a question," she shot back. "Now tell me what this is, Sheldon, or I swear to God—"

"An internal combustion engine, and what if you can't get the top down? Penny, I don't know much about applied mechanics, and if you can't get your car to work we can't ever get to the comic book store again, and I'll have to ask Leonard—"

"Great. Now what's this?" Her hand snapped out, first finger hovering just over the surface of a black panel.

"The...battery?"

"And this?"

"...Spark plugs?"

"And this?"

"I don't—you know this isn't my specialty—"

"Then let me tell you: that's windshield washer fluid. Valves are here," she said, and pointed. "Piston, crankshaft, over here's the sump. If my car actually decides to break down, I can fix it faster than they can get a mechanic to me. You know how I know that, Sheldon?" Penny planted her hands on her hips, a streak of grease painted up her right arm like a war sigil: Colossus astride the parking lot.

"Were you on the HowStuffWorks website?" Sheldon ventured.

"No, I know it because I _rebuilt a car_ in my auto class in high school, which you would know if you'd ever bothered to ask me!"

"Yes," Sheldon said, "well. Am I supposed to read your mind? It isn't as if you were delivered into my life with a, a, _manual_, or a textbook. There's no HowPennyWorks-dot-com!"

"You're my boyfriend, Sheldon, you're supposed to ask about me! I'm not just the chick or the token girl, or whatever!"

Which chain of thought thoroughly derailed Sheldon, as ever. His eyes narrowed. "You're been spending too much time on the TV Tropes wiki, haven't you?"

"...Maybe," she said. "And also completely _not the point_. It's all great for you, you're the lancer, you get your own—"

"Excuse me?" Sheldon squawked. "The lancer? The _lancer_? I'm at the very least the hero, I don't know how you could imply that about me—"

"The POINT is that it ISN'T ALL ABOUT _YOU_!" Penny snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him down, forcing him to meet her on an eye-to-eye level. "I may not have some fancy college degree, and maybe I don't even know what I want to do with my life, but you know what, Sheldon? You know what? I'm not some secondary character in the story of your life!"

"You're yelling at me in the parking lot," Sheldon hissed, wrapping long fingers around her wrist. "I don't like public confrontations, Penny!"

"I," she said, and clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip; every tensed muscle in her body felt like it went slack. She took two faltering steps backward—ducked around Sheldon, careful to not let their arms brush—and bolted, shaking her hair in front of her face as she fled.

Sheldon spent three minutes determining how to close the hood, and another three agonizing over whether he should unload the trunk or ferret out Penny. Procedure dictated—but she'd been trying not to cry—

He found the keys in the ignition and settle for locking the car and leaving it. If his hands had lost some of their usual steadiness, no one was there to notice.

Leonard treated his best friends' relationship with bafflement and cautious amusement. He and Penny had a good long run, but the day had come when they turned to each other and realized that this wasn't working, that it hadn't worked, and that it would continue to not work. A few months later he'd walked on his roommate and his ex holding hands while watching _Firefly_; Leonard's reaction had been a great swell of unsurprise—and what was he supposed to do, anyway, chastise them for public indecency?

Hearing their rising voices through the window wasn't cause for concern, either. In the world of Leonard Hofstadter, the constancy of Sheldon and Penny's bickering was only marginally less reliable than gravity; their arguments were amiable enough, they both seemed to enjoy picking at one another, and sparks certainly flew, even if they were frustrated I'll-prove-you-wrong sparks.

It wasn't until he stuck his head out the door and Penny nearly ran him down, taking the steps two at a time and with an expression carved from bedrock, that he realized something was seriously wrong between Penny and Sheldon, Freak Couple and Miracle.

"Hey, Penny, are you okay?" he said, or started to say—she rounded the bend and started up the next flight, out of sight in a matter of seconds.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, wedged a shoulder against the doorframe, and waited. Eight minutes later Sheldon turned the corner. He halted at an oblique angle from Leonard, his arms crossed defensively over his chest, and sighed.

"Leonard," he said, "do you think I behave poorly towards Penny?"

Leonard snorted. "When do you not not behave poorly towards Penny?" Sheldon jerked, startled, and his hands fell to his sides. "You insult her," Leonard continued, "you expect her to chauffeur you around, you pretty much imply that she's worthless because she never graduated college—"

"Oh," Sheldon said.

"—but you also compliment her, let her sit in your spot, and—despite what you actually _say_—you value her opinion over anyone's, which is probably a certifiable miracle."

"Don't be ridiculous, Leonard, involving the Vatican—"

"Not the point, buddy! Look. Maybe try telling her you're sorry every once in a while. Ask _her_ what to do. Penny's pretty smart."

Sheldon cocked his head to the side; Leonard could practically hear the gears grinding, and he nodded and went inside, duty complete. A thought struck him just before the door shut, and he popped his head back out.

"Hey, Sheldon?" he said. "You know she's on the roof, right?"

Leonard Hofstadter, couples' counselor. It had a certain ring to it; maybe he'd mention the idea to Mother in their bi-weekly communication. It would make her chuckle, if nothing else.

She was sobbing. He could hear her heaving for air, but the fading light cast long shadows, turning the old above-ground pool and Mrs. Vartebedian's potted palm tree and the other rooftop unmentionables into weird, featureless strangers.

"Penny?" he called. "Penny? Penny, where are you?"

The sobbing ceased. Sheldon sighed and sat down on a crumbling stone bench, clasping his hands between his knees and bowing his head. After three slow breaths, he looked up.

"I've treated you wrongly," he said to the still air. "For that, I apologize."

A hiccup came from the vicinity of the pool. He went on, cautious but encouraged.

"I'm aware that I'm not the...easiest of individuals. It's something we discussed at the start of this. But you deserve to know that I value you for—that I value you." She baffled and defeated and delighted him daily; if he knew of a better way to express his appreciation—anything other than halting, stilted, mere _words_—

"Sheldon?"

"Ah," he said, and the corners of hip lips turned up.

Penny was sitting on the ground on the far side of the pool; Sheldon sank down beside her, his back pressed against the hollow bulkhead. He managed to slide a hand into the small gap between her head and her knees, and her fingers promptly curled around his.

"It's just," she said, in a much smaller voice than he was accustomed to or even comfortable with hearing from her. "It's hard, you know? I would cut off my arm to love something half as much as you love physics, and you don't even know why you love it. You don't even seem to know that you _do_ love it."

"Mm," Sheldon said. "Leonard seems to think I need to ask you more questions."

She turned her head to the side, bright eyes winking out at him from beneath a curtain of hair. "Leonard's a pretty smart guy, sometimes."

"He said the same about you." Sheldon paused, tightening their interlaced fingers. "Would you like an appointment with one of the university's career counselors? I didn't...I didn't know that you were so uncertain about acting. No drastic bodily mutilation would be necessary."

A whiffle of laughter escaped her. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you."

"And perhaps you could choose tonight's feature presentation...what is your favorite film?"

She scooted closer to him, pressing their shoulders together. "_Raiders of the Lost Ark_, definitely."

"_Last Crusade_ is typically considered a finer contribution the Indiana Jones canon," Sheldon said. "Sean Connery's performance was—but," he corrected, "I suppose _Raiders_ should be judged on its own merit."

Penny's answering smile was worth its weight in yellowcake uranium.


End file.
